


so big, so small

by Possiblyenjoyable



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, M/M, Size Kink, connor wears hank's hoodie and feels very small and he's Super into it, i guess they'd be humans, yes the title is a reference to dear evan hansen bc i literally couldn't think of anything else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 12:58:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15195287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Possiblyenjoyable/pseuds/Possiblyenjoyable
Summary: Hank’s hoodies could swallow Connor up in an instant with how big they are compared to his small frame, and Connor wouldn’t complain for a second.He will, however, complain about the fact that Hank doesn’t seem to be getting the fucking hint.





	so big, so small

**Author's Note:**

> what's up i wrote this in like fifteen minutes while at work bc i was talking about my size kink with my boyfriend and it led to this. have fun be safe y'all

Hank’s hoodies could swallow Connor up in an instant with how big they are compared to his small frame, and Connor wouldn’t complain for a second. 

 

He will, however, complain about the fact that Hank doesn’t seem to be getting the fucking  _ hint. _

 

The first time he decided to try and hint at his interest in being his partner, he’d been folding laundry. The rest of the dorm had been cleaned while Hank was at class, and when Connor realized he had nothing else left to do, he decided that Hank would probably appreciate having non-wrinkled clothes to wear later. He’d done his laundry that morning and never got around to folding it, so Connor supposed that he could take care of it. 

 

He’d picked up one of Hank’s hoodies, stared at it for a moment, and then promptly put it on over his head.

 

_ God _ , he felt so small. It was… oddly nice.

 

Hank had frozen when he’d seen Connor wearing his hoodie in nothing else but boxers. Connor  _ prayed  _ that he would say something about it, but Hank just thanked him for taking care of his laundry before retreating to bed. It was awful early in the day to be going to bed, Connor had thought. It didn’t occur to him until much later why Hank would have gone in so early.

 

And now, sitting next to Hank on the couch for the millionth time since they became roommates, Connor can’t stop thinking about how much he wants Hank to touch him.

 

_ The Exorcist  _ plays on the TV, a movie that Connor isn’t really enjoying all that much. Hank seems to recognize how awful it is, too, but still likes it anyway. Connor thinks it’s endearing.

 

“I'm going to get some water,” Connor says, sitting up. He’d been leaning his head on Hank’s shoulder. He’s wearing one of his hoodies again, drowning drowning  _ drowning _ in the fabric. “Do you want anything?”

 

Hank shakes his head. “I'm alright, kid.”

 

Connor thinks that maybe he should be irritated that Hank calls him that, especially considering that they’re only a few years apart. He can’t help the warm feeling in his gut that it gives him, though.

 

Once he gets his water, Connor returns to the living room with it and sets it down on the coffee table. He pauses for a moment, looking down at Hank. Hank looks back up at him from where he sits on the reclined part of the couch, legs stretched out in front of him.

 

“You okay?” he asks Connor, an eyebrow raised. 

 

Connor nods.

 

He might as well.

 

“Please tell me if you want me to move,” he says, and then he lowers himself into the space between Hank’s legs, leans himself back against Hank’s chest, and stretches his legs out. 

 

The sharp inhale that Hank gives is one of the most gratifying things Connor has ever experienced.

 

“Hey, uh,” Hank says with a strained voice, and Connor briefly wonders if he misinterpreted Hank’s feelings toward him and has suddenly made him very uncomfortable, “Connor? Are you… Is there a reason for this?”

 

Connor carefully sets one of his hands on one of Hank’s thighs. “I'm tired. You’re comfortable. I don’t need much more of a reason.”

 

He hears Hank swallow. “Okay,” he says.

 

“Okay,” Connor echoes. A smile spreads across his face.

 

The act lasts about ten minutes before Connor grinds his ass back against Hank’s crotch.

 

It’s barely anything. A shift to become more comfortable, really, but Hank  _ moans. _ Connor could feel his dick hardening under him the moment he sat himself down there, but he hesitated in doing anything about it at first. Now, though, he just wants Hank to fucking  _ touch him. _

 

“Are you alright, Hank?” Connor asks innocently.

 

Hank exhales. “Just peachy.”

 

Connor moves his ass again, pressing it just a bit harder into Hank’s crotch. “You seem like you’re having trouble breathing. Am I too heavy?”

 

“ _ Fuck,”  _ Hank hisses. “No, no, fuck— Connor, you’re not too heavy. Fuck.”

 

Connor turns his head against Hank’s chest slightly. “You seem upset.”

 

Hank puts his hands on Connor’s inner thighs, and Connor feels like he’s gotten the breath knocked right out of him.

 

“You think this is funny?” Hank says into his ear. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck yes.  _ Yes.  _ “What are you trying to do to me?”

 

Connor’s dick gives a twitch, hardening at the realization of how fucking  _ small _ he feels right now. Hank’s hoodie, Hank’s hands, Hanks’s legs— all of it surrounding him is reminding him of their size difference and he can’t help how flustered that makes him.

 

“Nothing, Hank,” Connor says, determined to keep his composure until Hank loses his. “You’re imagining things.”

 

Hank’s right hand travels farther up his thigh. Connor bites back an inhale. “I don’t think I am, Connor.”

 

“Sure you are.” And, okay, so that definitely didn’t sound composed. It sounded shaky and desperate. Whoops. “You— you’re crazy.”

 

Hank’s other hand slides across his stomach until his arm is wrapped around his waist, and Connor fucking  _ keens _ . Fuck, fuck, he feels so delicate, so fucking delicate. “Y’know, you look a thousand times better in my hoodies than I ever did. Ever thought about  _ only  _ wearing my hoodies?”

 

Connor gasps when Hank’s hand reaches his now fully-hard dick, palm resting over it through his boxers.

 

“Hank,” he breathes. “Hank, please—“

 

“Oh, baby,” Hank says, mouth now pressing into his neck. Connor’s head swims at the usage of the pet name. “You’re not allowed to be this wrecked already. I’ve hardly touched you.”

 

“Then  _ fix that,”  _ Connor groans. He tilts his head as Hank’s mouth travels to his jawline. 

 

Without another word, Hank lifts the waistband of Connor’s boxers, keeping his other arm securely around Connor’s waist. Connor swears as Hank’s hand wraps around his cock. 

 

And then… doesn’t move.

 

“Hank?” he says, voice strangled. He’s gripping Hank’s thighs on either side of him. 

 

“What, you can tease me all you want but I can’t tease you?” Hank says, and Connor can hear the smile in his voice. Bastard. “That’s unfair.”

 

“ _ Please _ ,” Connor whines, moving his hips so that he fucks up into Hank’s fist. The brief bit of friction rips a moan from his throat.

 

“Jesus,” Hank says in a quiet voice. “You kill me, kid.”

 

When Hank’s hand starts moving, Connor does his best to keep his hips still and just let Hank hold him. He’s never felt so delicate and fragile before, never felt this fucking small. Hank swipes his thumb over the tip of his cock and Connor’s hips buck forward.

 

“You’ve really been holding out for this, haven’t you?” Hank says against Connor’s ear. Connor can feel him looking over his shoulder to watch Connor’s dick fuck into his fist. “Or did you get fed up with waiting? How many times have you touched yourself while wearing one of my hoodies, Connor? Hm?”

 

Connor gasps, legs spreading upon a particularly firm stroke of his cock. “I-I don’t,” he lies. “I’ve never done that.”

 

Hank’s hand stops. Connor groans in frustration.

 

“Really,” Hank says in a disbelieving tone. “Why don’t I buy that?”

 

“That’s your own problem,” Connor says. He manages to keep his voice from breaking. 

 

Hank’s hand remains still. “I could hear you sometimes,” he says, and Connor flushes red. “You sound so fucking good when you touch yourself. Do you finger yourself, too? Pretend that it’s me instead?”

 

Connor lets out a broken moan, his resolve quickly breaking. Not that he had much to begin with. “ _ Hank, _ ” he says. “Please, please— yes, I do, I want your fingers in me, want you to touch me,  _ fuck—” _

 

Hank’s hand moves again, stroking upward on his cock and spreading the precum gathering at the tip. He hums against Connor’s neck.

 

“Later,” he says. “Right now, I just want you to ruin this hoodie.”

 

The next moan that leaves Connor’s throat is really more of a sob as Hank quickens his pace, not trying to stop Connor’s hips from fucking up into his palm in response. He pants against Hank’s chest, his hands flying up to grip his shoulders behind him. Little pleas of desperation mixed in with Hank’s name spill from Connor’s lips, the more aware of how small he feels corresponding with how much closer he gets to his climax. 

 

“I'm gonna fuck you so good later, baby,” Hank says. “Make it so your fingers will never be enough after this.”

 

And then Connor is cumming, spilling onto Hank’s hand and his thighs and his hoodie. His hips stutter and he pants breathlessly into Hank’s chest, a string of curses leaving his throat. Hank’s hand doesn’t stop moving until Connor’s thrusts turn into twitches. 

 

“Fuck,” Hank breathes. Connor nods. 

 

“My thoughts exactly,” he says. Hank is still hard underneath him. Without hesitation, he snatches up Hank’s hands and slides his tongue along his palm, cleaning up whatever was left on him before he could try to get up and wash it off in the bathroom.

 

“Connor,” Hank groans. “You can’t do that to me.”

 

“Why not?” he asks, shifting so he can sit forward and turn himself in Hank’s lap. He straddles him. “You’re not allowed to be this wrecked already. I’ve barely even touched you.” A smile plays at his lips, and Hank scowls at the teasing.

 

Connor leans down, face close to his crotch. “But I think you’ve earned this.”

**Author's Note:**

> ok like i said i wrote it real fast so it's not my BEST work but lemme know what you thought!!! i want hank to spoon me like if u agree


End file.
